


The Best-Friend Trapping

by ElizabethisjustaKitten



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables (TV 2018), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Breakups, Feelings, Fluff, M/M, Minor Misdemeanors, Sharing a Bed, dramatic gays being dramatic, everybody is in everybody's business, mentions of anxiety disorder and depression, parent trap AU - but not really, vandalism and public property damage
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2019-09-17
Packaged: 2020-08-20 13:55:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20228959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElizabethisjustaKitten/pseuds/ElizabethisjustaKitten
Summary: After two of his best friends break up, Enjolras' life is falling apart. Thankfully, Grantaire is there to offer a helping hand and a plan.





	1. The Breakup

**Author's Note:**

> I'm officially joining this fandom with a fic of my own *sounds of gunfire in celebration*.
> 
> Yes, I was watching Parent Trap this weekend. No, I couldn't NOT write this.
> 
> Also called in my head that one fic where Enjolras is so up his own ass, he takes the breakup more dramatically than the actual participants and Grantaire is the dramatic bitch™, making it into a Greek tragedy. 
> 
> Also I will sell a soul for a good beta. Not like my soul, but like A soul <del>(I have a few to spare *shakes a soul jar at you violently*)</del>. 
> 
> Come chat with me on my [tumblr](https://elizabethisjustakitten.tumblr.com/), if you like me (or the fic) (but mostly me, because I need more Les Mis friends).

Grantaire always assumed that it was one of Enjolras' default character flaws, that he had a temper. It would only prove, that the marble lover of liberty was human after all if he was hot-headed and didn't have a filter while cross with somebody

However as he learned over time, the only person Enjolras scorned and yelled at, the only person that drove him to the uncontrolled fits of rage, was Grantaire himself.

Even when one of his best friends Coufeyrac arrived at a meeting half an hour late, smelling like cheap vodka and cigarettes, Enjolras just sighed, climbed down from whatever table he was just abusing and pulled him into a tight hug.

Grantaire wondered, what exactly caused the two better thirds of Enjolras missing in today's meeting, but he just assumed that the two lovebirds -Courfeyrac and Combeferre- just planned a very elaborate date involving a weekend getaway in Champagne or some other fancy place.

What he didn't expect was, as he was promptly informed about by whispering Joly, that the couple broke up yesterday.

But then again nobody expected that. After 5 years of dating, there was currently an active bet running about who's going to propose and when. Bet, that as it would seem, was currently off.

Enjolras was still cuddling broken Courfeyrac, that was sobbing on his shirt, getting his liner and concealer everywhere. Jehan joined the bundle of misery around their table, along with Joly, Marius and awkward looking Boussuet, that only remained standing towering above them, not knowing what to do with his hands. The atmosphere of the meeting was suddenly grim, as the news spread around the group.

"Did somebody check of 'Ferre?" Grantaire asked Joly, pouring them both another glass of the red, trying to chase the bad feeling convulsing in his stomach.

"Enjolras said he barricaded himself in his room, claiming he had some studying to do and didn't emerge since."

"That's bad."

His eyes found Enjolras again, mussing over his breaking friend. He knew that closed off expression on his face, with his eyebrows drawn closer together and that line formed between them. It was that sullen worry, that Grantaire knew as Enjolras' you are drinking again and I'm going to blow up and call you a good-for-nothing dirtbag face. But seeing it on his face now, paired with those soft and caring circles he kept running with his hand on Courfeyrac's back, made him think. It also made him a bit jealous. That was his look.

After this little scene, Jehan and Feuilly took Over Enjolras’ job of comforting Courfeyrac, so the meeting could continue. It wasn’t very productive rest of the meetup, no progress was made and it seemed like everybody, including Enjolras, forgotten what their cause was even about. With Courfeyrac’s sobbing rambles and Combeferre missing from the meeting altogether, it seemed like their spirits have been broken as well.

Grantaire however registered another disturbing feature and that was Enjolras. It seemed like the glow that he radiated whenever he stood in front of them was suddenly dimmed, like his sun-kissed hair went a few shades wrong and his eyes lost a shine.

It was like somebody tore a limb from him and maimed the other one and he was left crawling onward on his own, no help in sight. Grantaire liked to imagine Ferre and Courf like the proverbial Angel and Demon on his shoulder. While Ferre would remind him to take care of himself, eat properly and sleep more, while still staying on track of their cause, Courf was always there to make him live a little, open up to possibilities of life and friends. If Ferre was Enjolras’ brain, Courf was his heart. They complimented each other, they made each other work. Not they were both dealing with their shit, Enjolras seemed at the end of his rope.

On one hand, nobody should be that co-dependent on other people, on the other hand, it was easier to manipulate Enjolras to doing human things instead of political speeches once in a while if he had those people around him.

Enjolras was still standing in front of his friends ranting, but after realising nobody was paying him any attention and upon glancing on Courfeyrac sulking in the corner of the room, his words lost their force and his arguments stopped making sense altogether.

Grantaire was a good soldier and didn’t try to kick a leader that was down. He kept his line until the meeting, that Enjolras tried to hold for the full hour it was scheduled to go, was over. It was one of the shortest meetings in Les Amis history.

The concerned group of friends whisked drunk and sobbing Courfeyrac somewhere, possibly to his home. Hopefully to his home and not to a bar.

Enjolras stayed behind as the only one like he was counting seconds until everybody would be gone. Grantaire stayed as well, intending only to ask if Enjolras was okay and be gone. Instead, he stayed silent in his chair, watching as Enjolras sat on top of a table in the middle of gathering all his papers. He dropped his head into his hands and silence fell.

That was until a muffled sob escaped to the quiet room.

Grantaire, stunned by the scene, took a while until he managed to gather himself to his feet. He stumbled to Enjolras, feeling the wine pull him to the ground, and sank to his knees in front of him. He reached his hands up, about to pull the sobbing man to him, but froze midway in doing so.

"Ange," he whispered instead and Enjolras jerked himself up. His face was red and blotchy, with tear streaks across it, but instead of a painful grimace, there was shock.

"Sorry, I didn't notice you stayed behind," Enjolras made a valiant effort to wipe his face and hide the tears.

"I wanted to make sure you are okay as well," Grantaire said, his hands still hovering in front of Enjolras like he was getting ready to catch him if he crumbled.

"Despite the popular opinion and 'Chettas bets, I wasn't actually dating them." he made a parody of a smile.

"Yes, but you were in the middle of it from the start. They are your best friends-" Grantaire trailed off. He didn't need to explain, the look of pain on Enjolras' face told him so.

Everybody was so concerned about Courfeyrac and Combeferre, but nobody spared a thought to Enjolras. Enjolras, that was so used to be a third of a whole since such a young age, he couldn't be anything else.

Grantaire knew it was always Enjolras, Combeferre and Courfeyrac, the triumvirate of justice. He also learned much later, that Enjolras wasn't very pleased when his two best friends started dating. It wasn't like he couldn't happy for them, but he was afraid of this exact situation. When it finally came to it, after such a long time, it was even worse, because there was no chance of going back to friendship after everything. And Enjolras himself looked like he was on a point of breaking. Or he already was breaking with knowledge, that he would eventually have to choose between his two best friends. Two friends, that were practically brothers to him now.

"I will be fine, I should get back home to 'Ferre." Enjolras hopped down from the desk in a sudden movement, gathering all his papers and his laptop rather erratically.

"Are you sure, you are okay?" Grantaire asked, letting his voice slip into too familiar and too soft tone. It was a tone, he never used in front of Enjolras, but almost always used while talking about him with others.

Enjolras regarded him with a weird expression and he knew, he was stepping over a line, that they drew for them a long time ago. They weren't really friends and Grantaire had no right to ask all these questions. He should have gone with the rest of the group, when they disappeared and leave the man alone, mope in his own misery.

"I need to check on him and then back on Courf. They should talk about it, maybe not now, but eventually..." Enjolras was mumbling more to himself, than to Grantaire now.

"Ange," Grantaire put a hand on his shoulder and Enjolras promptly shaken it off.

"I need to go- I need to get home." And with these words, he bolted for the door.


	2. The Ring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grantaire was looking at him expectantly, his arms now crossed over his chest.  
Enjolras made himself take a deep breath and pulled out the ring box, holding it on his palm to Grantaire.  
There was a minute of stunned silence and Enjolras could swear Grantaire’s face went pale.  
“What-?”

Enjolras came home absolutely emotionally exhausted and more confused than ever. Not only it felt that every stable thing in the universe was breaking, he even got himself so unnerved with Grantaire again. 

Enjolras searched for any explanation of Grantaire’s sudden gentle behaviour today. He wondered as he turned the key in his lock if this whole mess affected Grantaire as much as it affected him. Yes, Combeferre and Courfeyrac weren’t exactly his best friends, but they were good friends to him. He surely must feel for them. 

He worried about Grantaire, not that he didn’t constantly worry about every single thing, but with Grantaire it was a special kind of worry. Despite the cynism and not-a-care-in-the-world appearance, the guy looked like he was one gentle breeze from breaking at any given moment. Enjolras knew he didn’t help the things over the years, but something about Grantaire always unhinged him to the point of blinding rage. It was the stoic disregard for his self-worth and health, the self-deprecating humour and suicide jokes. He just wanted to put a blanket over the entirety of Grantaire’s short but surprisingly muscly body and swaddle him in his arms. He wanted to protect him from the world, but that would be of no help since Grantaire needed protection mainly from himself. And probably from Enjolras as well, since he seemed to always say the wrong thing. The most horrible, frightening, awful thing. It was like choosing the worst possible one-liners in a choice-based video game.

He opened doors to his apartment with a heavy sigh and found Combeferre finally out of his room, still in his pyjamas and a dressing gown, sitting at their small table in their kitchenette eating store-bought Tesco cookies straight from the box. These weren’t even the horrible oatmeal and raisin ones, these were double chocolate chips. 

Enjolras sighed loudly as he slumped himself on a chair across his roommate. If ´Ferre was eating sweets alone in the middle of the night, things were worse than he imagined. And his imagination was producing pretty horrendous pictures. 

“Was he in today?” Combeferre asked meekly after a while of awkward silence and offered him a cookie. Enjolras took it because he needed sugar if he was going to do this. 

“He came in late and drunk. We took care of him.”

Combeferre flinched with the word drunk and picked on his cookie. Crumbs got stuck to his fingers and he reached for a napkin. 

“I know I have no right to ask questions,” he started after a moment of silent pondering. 

“Nonsense,” said Enjolras. “You can ask!”

“Where is he staying?” ´Ferre blurted like he was dying to ask ever since Enjolras rattled a key in the lock.

“Currently at Jehan’s.”

They both looked instinctively at the doors to Combeferre’s and Courfeyrac’s bedroom. Or rather only ‘Ferre’s bedroom now. The apartment was small, but very cosy, in a good building with a view, and it was in a good neighbourhood. It was the best the three of them could afford in a city as expensive as Paris. Without Courfeyrac, they had more than heartbreak to deal with. The questions of rent would eventually come. 

“I can’t believe this happened,” Ferre whispered and when Enjolras returned his gaze to his friends, he noticed the glossy sheen his eyes suddenly got. 

“Hey,” he reached across the table and grabbed for his hand. It was sticky with chocolate and Enjolras thought for a moment this was the biggest low he ever found his friend in.

“Can you do me a favour?” Combeffere asked suddenly, fishing with his free hand in his dressing gown. 

“Anything!” Enjolras squeezed his hand with a bit of fright. 

“Can you take this and hide it away from me?”

Combeffere pulled a small jewellery box dressed in black satin and sat it down in the middle of the table between them. He looked with mirth in his eyes at the sheen on the box as Enjolras sat stunned, unable to move. 

“I was going to do it at our anniversary next month,” Ferre pulled his hand from under Enjolras’. He looked like he was seconds from dying with heartbreak. 

“Yeah, I will take it away now, if that’s ok.” Enjolras finally gathered his composure and gently reached for the box and pocketed the ring, determined to never let Combeferre find it again. 

They talked until Enjolras managed to persuade his friend to take a shower and head to bed. Combeffere was sleeping on the sofa since Coufeyrac left, so persuading him to lie down to an actual bed was a win. Even if it meant that Combeferre was occupying his bed at the moment. 

Enjolras stayed with him, talking to him in a soothing voice and patting his hair until his breathing evened out, but he couldn’t stay any longer. He wasn’t used to sharing a bed with another person, even if that person was one of his best friends. 

He gathered a blanket and a spare pillow to go lie on the sofa, too scared to breach whatever sanctuary grieving Combeferre might have created in the other bedroom. But he couldn’t sleep, couldn’t even lie down. He was full of that anxious restless energy that kept him up at nights before protests and speeches, wondering what could go wrong. The only difference was, everything already was wrong and the ring that Combeferre gave to him earlier that evening was currently burning a giant metaphorical hole into his red coat, where he hid it while ‘Ferre was in the shower. 

He reached for his coat, for his phone and keys, and silently left their apartment, to go for a walk to clear his head. 

He didn’t realise quite truthfully where he was walking until he was standing in front of the familiar building in a much more dangerous neighbourhood than the one he left about an hour ago with sleeping Combeferre in his bed. But since he was already here, he reached for his phone and dialled the familiar number. He didn’t want to ring in fear that he would wake Bossuet or Éponine but prayed that the phone wouldn’t be off or on silent. 

To his amazement, it was picked after the first ring. 

“Enjolras, what the hell, it’s two in the morning?”

“Can you come down please, I’m in front of your house.”

There was silence on the other side, then a sigh and silent “Okay.”

Enjolras started pacing around nervously, as he waited, glancing at the doors of the building and up the dark street, that looked menacing with half of the lamps not working. 

It didn’t take that long before the doors to the building swung open and flooded the street with light. Grantaire was standing in them in a grey hoodie and colour-stained sweatpants. 

“What the actual fuck, Ange?” He asked, but there wasn’t any heat to his words. They were more breathless than anything else. Enjolras slipped past him to the warmth of the lobby or in this case to the room with old battered mailboxes and a staircase. 

“Going to invite me in?” He asked, glancing up, where he knew he shared a tiny apartment and where probably everybody was already sleeping. 

“Okay, why the hell not,” Grantaire started running up the stairs, not even trying to be silent. They had the apartment on the third floor, tiny and old with windows that got stuck way too often and let in drafts of various origins, mostly of tugs downstairs smoking whatever they were smoking. Enjolras didn’t usually comment on their living arrangements, because he knew that money was tight for all three of them. So tight, that while Grantaire and ´Ponine had their rooms, Bossuet slept on the pull-out sofa. But they managed. 

Grantaire opened the doors to the apartment and light up. Enjolras flinched, ready for a scold from his roommates, but none came. The sofa was empty and made up.

“They are at Jehan’s with Courf,” Grantaire explained, while he headed for the kitchen to make tea. Enjolras followed him. There was a slight odour of turpentine in the air and doors to Grantaire’s room were ajar. 

“You are lucky I was painting since I wouldn’t probably notice you calling me if I was already sleeping. Next time just ring downstairs.”

Next time, like this, was a common occurrence to happen. Enjolras still had no idea what he was doing here. 

His hands shook and he put them into the pockets of his coats. He palmed the ring box inside. 

“I’m... sorry for the intrusions,-“ Enjolras was amazed how much his voice shook as he dug his fingers into the satin lining of the box “-but I need you to help me with something.”

There, he made a decision and created a reason to be here. So why did he still felt that inappropriate anxious feeling that kept whispering to his what a nuisance he was?

“Help you with what?” Grantaire put two bags of tea into mugs and turned to him. God, how Enjolras despised that cheap bagged tea. 

Grantaire was looking at him expectantly, his arms now crossed over his chest. 

Enjolras made himself take a deep breath and pulled out the ring box, holding it in his palm to Grantaire.

There was a minute of stunned silence and Enjolras could swear Grantaire’s face went pale. 

“What-?”

“I need you to hide this for me. It can’t stay in our apartment!”

“Hide it?” Grantaire asked, his voice higher than usual. 

Enjolras sighed and pushed the box into Grantaire’s hands. They were colder than they should be and sweaty. 

“Yes, Combeferre gave it to me for safekeeping and I can’t possibly let it stay at our place.“

“Oh,” finally a recognition seemed to dawn on Grantaire’s face. Now it was his turn to start stuttering. “Is this-? Did he plan to-?”

“Yes and yes. I don’t want it anywhere near him now, so please would you take it away?”

Grantaire nodded and looked at the black box with curiosity now. Before Enjolras could stop him, he hooked his thumb underneath the front and opened it. 

Inside, resting on white satin beading was a simple rose gold and silver band with two stripes running parallel through it. 

“I think I’m going to be sick,” Enjolras muttered upon seeing the ring for the first time. It was like opening Pandora’s box. It felt wrong and something twisted vigorously in his stomach as he stared at it.

Grantaire snapped the box shut again and pocketed it, before taking a step closer to Enjolras with a worried look. His hand hovered above him, not yet touching him, as if he was asking permission to do so. This was something Grantaire did a lot with him, reaching out but not touching him, as if the mere touch of his hand might be offensive to Enjolras. 

It wasn’t and right now Enjolras longed to be hugged, because otherwise, he felt like his insides might just spill out of him, ignoring the outer layer of his skin altogether. 

But this was Grantaire, so instead of asking him for what he really wanted, he stepped a bit away from him in fear of being mocked for the need for physical contact. 

“Right...” Enjolras said, gathering himself again “I should- I should go.”

Grantaire finally pulled his hands back, as if he got burned. 

“It’s two in the morning. The tube is no longer going. How did you even get here?!”

“I walked,” Enjolras admitted, rather embarrassed. He could feel the heat creeping up his neck. 

“Walked. Here? Have you lost your mind, you don’t go walking in this neighbourhood!”

Grantaire’s voice went unusually high and Enjolras felt the first tug of a smile on his lips since he even got the news about his best friends splitting up. 

“Stop fretting, I can take care of myself!” Enjolras regarded him with one of his hard and cold stares, the ones he used on meetings and that shut Grantaire up. 

“Do you want to stay?” Grantaire asked, more meekly now. 

Enjolras looked him over, that knot of anxiety uncurling in his stomach and settling into calm waters again. 

“If that’s not a problem,” he said and tried to go for an honest smile. He planned on calling a taxi, but something pulled him towards this apartment this evening and he felt safe and sheltered from the turmoil of his home for a moment. 

“You can take my bed. I will take the floor. The guys will be probably back at some point and I don’t want to hog their beds.”Grantaire said as he started walking towards the opened door at the far right corner of their kitchen/living room, the teas were altogether forgotten. It only now dawned on Enjolras that two more people lived in this tiny apartment and there wasn’t even a spare sofa for him to crash on. 

“If it's a problem, I could go,” he said in a panic.

“Nonsense, you look like you need the sleep. There are spare shirts in that drawer.”Grantaire waved his hand in the general direction of a small closet with six drawers. His room was a tiny space, that fit only a queen-sized bed, an easel (that Grantaire was currently trying to tidy up and air the turpentine smell hanging around it) and the chest of drawers, that partially blocked one side of the bed and didn’t probably open last two drawers all the way. Enjolras noticed, that Grantaire showed all the paints into a plastic box, that disappeared underneath the bed. That made him curious what else could be found underneath the bed as well. Was that where Grantaire hid all his painting when Enjolras was over for a visit?

“Sorry for the smell,” Grantaire said finally, standing awkwardly with an easel, that wouldn’t fold. 

“Where exactly do you plan to sleep?” Enjolras asked as he scanned the floor for a suitable space to be comfortable on. This was a bad idea and he should go home. 

“I will take this space if I can make this damn thing to do its job!” Grantaire kicked the easel and it seemed that he lost the fight. The screws holding it together wouldn’t budge, because of all the dried paint on them. 

Enjolras looked at the floors beneath the easel. There were newspapers laid beneath it, but they seemed rather dirty, covered in way too much grime and paint not to be completely soaked through. They probably weren’t changed underneath that easel for a long time. Grantaire was messy, especially with his art and Enjolras wasn’t surprised to find that out since one of his favourite mediums to use were oil pastels. 

“The bed is big enough,” Enjolras prompted and for some reason could feel the exact second Grantaire’s eyes pierced him like two bullets straight to the chest. 

“I mean I could go home if it’s that much-“

“No!” Grantaire interrupted him probably louder than was necessary. “I mean, no, you don’t have to. If you don’t mind me in there.”

Enjolras paused to think and found out that he didn’t mind. He wasn’t anxious about Grantaire so close to him. It might even be nice. 

“I mean it’s your bed,” he said simply and a smile played across his lips. 

Grantaire noded a bit sternly and gathered his things, before disappearing presumably to the bathroom. Before that, he threw one of his graphic tees to Enjolras, which had a stupid pun about the pain of existence scribbled across the chest.

Enjolras stripped himself only to his boxers and threw on the shirt. It was baggy and comfortable and smelled like Grantaire’s laundry detergent, which made him feel safe for some strange reason. 

Grantaire showed up later in a full set of pyjamas, which made Enjolras feel a bit underdressed for the occasion. But then again, it was sleeping, not a fashion show. 

“You okay with left side?” Grantaire asked, pointing at the side of the bed that was partially sharing its space with the wardrobe. 

“Whatever works for you,” Enjolras said. Truth was, he didn’t have a side since he usually slept alone and in the middle of his bed. The few times he shared a bed, he was told that he was a terrible bed-mate. Now he realised he should have thought about all of that before he even agreed to this. 

But it was too late, because Grantaire was already in the bed on the right side, looking at him expectantly, with a hand on the switch. 

“I apologize for any kicking that I might do while unconscious,” Enjloras said while slipping under the covers. 

“I’m pretty sure I can take whatever you bring, Apollo,” Grantaire said and with that and his last smile, the room was suddenly dark. 

During the night, Enjolras learned a few things. First was, that this apartment truly had quite thin walls and their friends were incredibly bad at being stealthy while being drunk. 

He became aware of this fact as he woke up to shushed voices and repeated loud _PSSSSST_s coming from Éponine and Bossuet, that stumbled into the apartment sometime during sunrise. It seemed that Grantaire was either used to this or was a heavy sleeper because he just stirred for a moment and then settled back to sleep. They tumbled around the living room for a while, until silence fell again after a while and Enjolras could come back to overthinking couple other things. 

The second thing he learned and now had time to process was, that he was probably truly a terrible bed-mate. He found himself sprawled across Grantaire’s chest as he woke with the voices. Thank god, he was positioned in a way, that he was quite comfortable and not smothering Grantaire in any way. He was lying face down on his chest, his left leg was bend and somehow tangled between Grantaire’s legs and his hands were both curled around him, one around his torso and the other one around his neck. If this was anybody else, it sure would be adorable and quite comfortable. Since it was Grantaire, a strange sensation, that had nothing to do with adorable and a lot to do with a need to run his hands through Grantaire’s hair and slide up his body, rose up in Enjolras and made him freeze. 

In that second, Grantaire decided to stear in his sleep, which made Enjolras panic even stronger as his heartbeat so loud, Enjolras was convinced even his roommate could hear it, Grantaire wrapped his hands around Enjolras practically hugging him closer, and any plans to move were destroyed. 

But as the voices quieted in the other room and the flat was back to its nightly laziness, Enjolras found himself convinced, that there wasn’t anything he minded about this sleeping position, other than the fact that the cover over them was getting quite hot. 

With his free hand, he managed to slip it down their bodies and then complacently snuggled closer against Grantaire’s chest. Maybe this wasn’t quite that adorable, but with the strong arms around him, he at least felt comfortable. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, oblivious, sexually confused demisexual Enjolras is my favourite, why do you ask? 
> 
> Leave kudos and comments if you like this little creation of mine. 
> 
> Also come chat with me on my [tumblr](https://elizabethisjustakitten.tumblr.com/), if you are interested!


	3. Rom-Coms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "What do you want to watch?" he asked when the painfully slow computer finally loaded.
> 
> Ejolras scanned the titles that were on the top of Grantaire suggestions. Grantaire squirmed in his seat feeling suddenly very self-conscious. There was a lot of weird documentaries and sad gay indie films.
> 
> "Something happy?" Enjolras again formed his answer like a question.
> 
> "What's happy to you, Apollo? V for Vendetta?" Grantaire joked. Enjolras didn't seem to appreciate his humour, as he frowned at him.
> 
> "I was thinking more of a rom-com?"

Grantaire had a few days to breathe after the disastrous and amazing bed-sharing adventure that tilted his worlds. He discovered a few very important facts that night that he could add to his extensive mental file on the perfect Apollo himself.

First, Enjolras was a cuddler. This discovery shouldn't be that shocking since Enjolras usually demonstrated bursts of easy affection with most of his friends; Well all, except Grantaire. But waking up in the morning to Enjolras practically lying sprawled across him, hands everywhere, feet tangled together, clinging to his heat with both of their comforters on the floor, that was a memory Grantaire will remember for a long time.

The second thing he discovered was, that Enjolras might be a night owl, but he was terrible in the morning.

Grantaire had breakfast made, Éponine out of the door and Bossuet buttering his toast and making fun of Grantaire for hosting such a special guest that evening before Enjolras even managed to get himself out of the bed. Waking him up to use the bathroom and go make breakfast was hard enough; Both in making that decision, to bring attention to their current sleeping position and physically making Enjoras open his eyes. He just stretched like a cat as he lay, uncurling the hand that Grantaire just now noticed was for some reason tucked underneath his head and mover slightly, sliding down from his body, but curling around Grantaire's pillow. It was adorable and he couldn't possibly make himself move and leave the bed for a long while, just staring at Enjolras with his head in the pillow and wild sunny curls sprawled all around the bed. He was in the middle of the bed, hair everywhere on the circle around him, like wild sun rays radiating from him. Grantaire picked up his sketchbook on his way from the room, to make a memory of these new sides of Enjolras.

The third fact was, that Enjolras was clueless in the kitchen. When he first stumbled to the common living area, he looked about to pass out and almost used Grantaire's paint water to make his tea.

Bossuet laughed at him, as he blindly navigated the unknown kitchen cabinets in search of tea bags until Grantaire couldn't take it anymore and just handed them over. Enjolras trying to make eggs wasn't much better and Grantaire would laugh if he didn't manage to burn his favourite pan.

After that, he made Enjolras breakfast, insisting that the man in question would sit and just wait without moving.

Bossuet left them to their breakfast, getting ready for work and the silence in the kitchen after his departure was a pointed one. They ate in silence and after that, Enjolras left without explanations, with a simple "Thank you. For everything."

He didn't see him for a few days, had a mental breakdown over trying to paint Enjolras in a bed with sunny curls radiating from him and almost gave up on it all. He even used the very expensive golden paint to weave those radiating golden rays to his hair and yet the painting was nothing close to the actual scene. The bed was all wrong, the hair was flat and not hypnotising enough. He hated himself for being unable to capture the beauty.

Then his phone rang and after seeing Enjolras' name on his display for the second time that week, Grantaire scrambled to pick it up, smudging a golden trace over his display.

"Yes?" he asked, his voice a bit more breathless than he anticipated.

"I'm outside," Enjolras muffled to the phone. He sounded silent and broken. He sounded sad.

"I'm coming," he breathed out, as he scrambled to kick the paining under the bead in a furry of movements and reached for a jacket.

He took the steps in two, reached the door, took a deep breath to calm himself and opened it. 

Enjolras stood there in his red coat and a scarf that was bigger than him. He had his hands wrapped around his body to keep the heat in and his hair and the scarf were hiding most of his face. Despite that, Grantaire knew something was wrong from the moment he saw him.

"Can I come in?" Enjolras asked, his voice coarse.

Grantaire reached a hand to pull him in, then stopped himself.

"Ye- yes, of course. Come in!"

Enjolras slid inside and Grantaire closed the door after them.

They stood in the foyer, looking at each other. There was something like expectation in Enjolras' gaze and Grantaire now noticed his eyes were bloodshot.

"Come on up," Grantaire sighed and started walking the stairs back to his flat. Enjolras mumbled something inaudible through the scarf but followed.

They reached his home, Enjolras putting his coat and scarf on the hooks by the door.

Now that Grantaire had a full view of him, he could pinpoint just how much of a mess Enjolras was. His hair was wild and all around his face, his clothes were a bit mismatched and his face had that closed-off mask, that Grantaire usually saw when he teased him, rather than when Enjolras was this distressed. And his eyes, they had dark shadows underneath them and it looked suspiciously like Enjolras cried just before coming here.

"Did- something happen?" He didn't want to snoop, but he was worried.

Enjolras shook his head: "I was just at Jehan's. Talked to Courf and-"

He went silent, toyed with a hem of his shirt.

Grantaire prompted him to continue.

"Courf is a mess," he confessed.

"More of a mess, or like-?"

Enjolras gave him a reprimanding look and Grantaire sighed.

"He refuses to eat and drinks all the time and Jehan told me he went to a club and tried to fight a guy that touched his ass."

"I mean, sexual harassment and all that-" Grantaire tried to protest.

"He was dancing with the guy. Apparently freaked out the moment the guy tried to touch him, punched him and then cried in a toilet stall for half an hour."

Grantaire tried to fight a chuckle that was threatening to escape him. It sounded so tragicomic to him. But he knew Enjolras wouldn't appreciate the comedic relief of the situation right now. The Apollo himself looked like he was about to pass out from exhaustion.

"Look, they just need a bit of time. They might just fix whatever gone wrong between them if they cool out." Grantaire curled his hands to fists fighting the urge to grab Enjolras and tuck him under a pile of blankets.

"Do you know why they had a fight?" Enjolras asked and there was a hard edge to his words like he was angry even talking about it.

"No, actually I don't," Grantaire confessed.

"They started fighting about the future. I heard them joking around about life insurance being a convenient thing to have with our line of job and political activism. But then Ferre starting being serious and telling Courf how they should have a real talk about it. And you know how Courf gets if you try and punch through his happy and shiny bubble, he called him pessimistic and then there was screaming and some very hurtful accusations that they didn't mean about being too stuck up or irresponsible and stuff like that. It was horrible."

Enjolras now had that weird glass-like gaze back.

"And you heard the whole thing?" Grantaire asked with a shock.

"Yes, I was in my room and the doors were open. Then Courfeyrac proceeded to storm out and Combeferre locked himself in their room. I had to lure him out before I could even talk to him."

"What did he say about the whole thing?" Grantaire asked then.

"He looked me dead in the eyes and said 'How could I ever think this could work between us, we are two absolute opposites'" Enjolras said dramatically.

"That's not true, they have so much in common. Just because Courf tends to hide behind him optimistic, child-like nature and Combeferre is more practical doesn't mean they can't work. They work out, of course, they do. And they love each other!" Grantaire was getting riled up by all of this. It was such a stupid thing to fight about, such a small portion of their future. And yet, apparently, it was the breaking point.

"Do you think opposites can work out? And I don't mean just love each other, of course, they can fall in love. I mean really work out, as long term?" There was an edge of panic but also hope to Enjolras' voice. Grntaire knew that this wasn't just a rhetorical question, the answer for some reason mattered to Enjolras. Either because he cared for his friends and it was breaking his heart seeing them like this, or for some more profound reason. Grantaire didn't want to speculate.

"If they can make compromises they can. I think it's a lot like dancing, about finding that rhythm and being aware of the limits your partner has. But they can if they communicate together," he answered instead after a few seconds of silent pondering. That seemed to be the right answer. Enjolras raised his eyes to him now and he was looking at him with such affection, that Grantaire couldn't possibly withstand.

"Want to watch a movie?" Grantaire blurted, unable to stop himself. He wanted to distract him somehow and the only way that came to mind was mindless entertainment.

"Um- sure?" Enjolras more asked than agreed. He looked around a bit uncomfortable. "I'm not- I'm not in a way of anything? Or anybody?"

Grantaire shook his head and fetched his laptop from the kitchen

They settled on the couch and Grantaire started their Netflix. The Netflix account was Joly's, but this household somehow hijacked it for themselves and now for Enjolras.

"What do you want to watch?" he asked when the painfully slow computer finally loaded.

Ejolras scanned the titles that were on the top of Grantaire suggestions. Grantaire squirmed in his seat feeling suddenly very self-conscious. There was a lot of weird documentaries and sad gay indie films.

"Something happy?" Enjolras again formed his answer like a question.

"What's happy to you, Apollo? V for Vendetta?" Grantaire joked. Enjolras didn't seem to appreciate his humour, as he frowned at him.

"I was thinking more of a rom-com?"

"Oh," was the only noise Grantaire managed to squeeze out of himself, as he navigated the rom-com section.

"Something classic. When Harry met Sally or Princess Bride." Enjolras said, his voice coming back to that bossy tone he used with Grantaire.

"Sixteen Candles?" Grantaire asked, coming over the title in the suggestions.

"Are you kidding me? That's one of the most sexist movies I've ever seen. The entire storyline that Anthony Michael Hall is horrifying and implies rape-"

"Calm down, fearless leader, it was only a suggestion. I never saw the movie."

"Don't watch it," Enjolras said, with an angry expression. But it was something else than grief and that was important. Anger suited his burning eyes better, so Grantaire wasn't complaining.

"Parent Trap?" Grantaire asked, more like a joke than an actual suggestion.

Enjolras paused, looked at the screen and nodded. So Grantaire sighed and played young Lindsey Lohan to take their minds from everything.

Bossuet was home before the girls even swapped, so Grantaire suggested they take his bed instead and made a giant bowl of popcorn. After Enjolras inhaled the popcorn, Grantaire assumed he didn't have any dinner and ordered pizza for the whole flat (it was his turn to make dinner today anyway and Enjolras kind of got into his plans).

The pizza arrived during the hotel pool scene and they paused the movie to go eat to the kitchen.

("We could eat in bed and watch"

"I'm not putting crumbs everywhere where people sleep."

"I eat on the sofa every day."

"Yes, Bossuet already complained about that!") 

After a dinner break and merciless teasing from Eponine, they returned to the room to finish the movie. However, Enjolras stopped Grantaire's hand before he could press play again.

"I actually came here to talk," he said.

Grantaire made a distressed noise. He was sure this was it. Now Enjolras will tell him about something inappropriate he did the last time.

"I-" Enjolras paused, searching the room with his eyes.

"Whatever it is, Apollo, just tell me, I can take the criticism," Grantaire joked.

"That's it," Enjolras said with a serious expression: "It came to my attention I behave like an asshole. I- never intended to do that."

Grantaire had no idea where that came from, but something warm curled in his chest.

"So I wanted to apologize. For everything wrong, I said to you. I usually don't mean it. I'm sorry," Enjolras continued. Grantaire wanted to laugh, to launch himself to Enjolras'đ arms, who looked so scared and vulnerable at this very moment. Instead, he bumped their shoulders as they sat on the bed.

"I'm sorry too. I always push your buttons, so it's not entirely your fault."

"That's what Courf said as well." Enjolras said thoughtfully "That we push each other's buttons."

"We kinda do," Grantaire agreed.

"But that's the problem, your mocking makes me better, stronger. You taking apart my arguments usually results in me doing better research and strengthening these arguments. You always make it better, R!"

Enjolras had that very intensive fire in his eyes, that was reserved for his very passionate speeches. Grantaire loved him even more at that moment.

"I try," he confessed.

"I had no idea that you did it intentionally."

Grantaire had to laugh now: "Not- not from the start. When I first came in, I was looking for a fight. I was angry and wanted to argue with anybody. And then you came along a real argumentative challenge. I enjoyed arguing with you, it was weird. So I came back to the meetings a few times and then- I don' know Ange, I just started caring and wanted to help you. But the only way you would let me near your speeches was arguing against them. So I did."

"You should have asked," Enjolras said softly.

"I did. You rejected me," Grantaire confessed and Enjolras flinched.

"I thought you were mocking me."

"I never mock you, Enjolras. Yes, I mock your arguments, but I would never mock you."

Enjolras looked at him and there was something new and hypnotizing in his gaze. It was like the stormy clouds stood apart for the rays of hope that now radiated from his face. It was the second time Enjolras stopped time for Grantaire, as he looked at him. But this time, it was somehow more profound and yet he couldn't yet decipher the meaning of it all. It was like some very crucial parts of the puzzle were missing.

"Let's finish the movie," Grantaire said then, trying to avoid looking at Enjolras holding that expression on his face. He then pressed play and the frozen image on his screen came back to life.

Enjolras snuggled closer to him and Grantaire could die happy at that moment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know the drill, I take Kudos and Comments as a payment to the Gods. 
> 
> If you want, come chat with me on [tumblr](https://elizabethisjustakitten.tumblr.com/).


	4. Direct Actions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "No plans, Apollo? Maybe you could join me and Bossuet," Grantaire grinned, some kind of an obvious joke in his voice.  
"Sure," Enjolras said, not quite sure what he was agreeing to since he didn't listen to their previous conversation.   
"Okay, you will need a pair of gloves and a wrench," Bossuet said.  
"Wait, what-?" Enjolras exclaimed. He was so fucked.

Enjolras was full of emotions that night he turned on Grantaire's doorstep for the second time.

His previous conversation didn't go as planned. He wanted to talk to Courfeyrac about him and Combeferre, explain to him that they should talk.  
Instead, Courfeyrac sniffed out something was bothering him right away and insisted that he tell him.

So Enjolras confessed his previous bed-sharing adventure and explained the turmoil of feeling he now had inside himself. He didn't see Grantaire around after that night, but he was on his mind constantly. Like an unrequired ugly thought that wouldn't go away.

Except, nothing about Enjolras' thoughts was ugly. They revolved mostly around very pretty and enjoyable things like hugging Grantaire, snuggling close or sharing a bed again. It might have been because Combeferre was still occupying his bed and Enjolras resolved on sleeping on the couch that was killing his back. But even if he could have his bed back, something about Grantaire's just seemed more comfortable.

He was determined to crack this and talk to Grantaire about the apparent crudeness that Courfeyrac spelt out for him bluntly and a little accusatory.

How he got pulled into watching a movie and eating pizza with Grantaire, he had no idea. But they have currently sprawled on Grantaire's bed again, their belly's full and the movie playing in the background, as Enjolras couldn't replaying Grantaire's words in his head. They caused a storm inside him, that had nothing to do with the bad weather outside.

He was now lying next to Grantaire, itching to reach for his hand and take it in his, examine each callous and crack in the skin, investigate the golden and yellow paint currently visible under his fingers. He had to fight himself not to do it.

"Are you even watching the movie?" Grantaire asked suddenly, as Enjolras squirmed next to him for a little while.

"I'm thinking," he said instead.

"About?" Grantaire didn't bother to stop the movie as he turned to his side, so he could look at Enjolras currently still lying on his belly.

"Courf and Ferre need to talk," Enjolras said the first thing that came to his mind.

"They do indeed. But don't you think they should cool off first? Courfeyrac can be pretty hot-headed when it comes to feelings."

"He is cooled off. I think now he is just scared that Combeferre would not want him back. Which is ridiculous!" Enjolras laughed remembering the ring.

"Yeah, it is. Do you want to do something?" Grantaire said and his eyes sparkled with mischief.

"Like what?" Enjolras asked sceptically.

"We could Parent-trap them!"

"Like- send them on a camping trip?" Enjolras asked confused, his eyes flicking to the screen.

"No," Grantaire laughed "You remember where they had their first date, don't you?"

"Are we counting making out in Musain or-"

"No." He interrupted him "Real date. Kissing doesn't count if you don't establish a relationship before and don't talk."

"Then it was that little bakery on campus. The one Cosette worked for a while."

"Great. So we need to recreate that and get them there. Let nostalgia work its magic."

Enjolras thought about it for a while: "I mean, it does sound like a plan. But I think the bakery is closed now."

"We can use Cosette's bakery. Same person, same vibe, more amazing cakes!" Grantaire exclaimed happily.

Enjolras sighed contently, it was like Grantaire managed to lift yet another weight from his shoulders.

"Do you think it will work?" he asked, voicing that small doubtful voice in the back of his head.

"Worked for Lindsey's and Lindsey's parents, didn't it?" he laughed.

"Yeah," Enjolras agreed, not entirely convinced and rolled to get closer to him. Grantaire didn't protest.

They watched Breakfast Club after and Grantaire lifted his hand in the air with Judd Nelson at the end of the movie. Enjolras found himself, wanting to kiss him and excused himself to the bathroom. He needed a minute to process this whole situation in peace.

Truth was, he felt very comfortable around Grantaire. After that little heart to heart, they had tonight, some barrier in Enjolras' mind shattered. The feeling flooded him suddenly and yet not unexpectantly. He felt like they were always there, in the back of his mind. The fact that Grantaire wasn't conventionally attractive, yet his muscly hands and legs made Enjolra's heart beat faster. The obvious quality of his crooked smile that made the whole day a little easier on Enjolras. The way he talked, that was eloquent and yet a bit chaotic and mad, like he had so many thought he couldn't keep them all in his head.

Enjolras liked everything about Grantaire. From his body to his beautiful mind. He might have liked it from the first moment he saw him, just until their first fight that happened five minutes later. But for that first five minutes, Enjolras was smitten by this amazing man and now it was all coming back to him in waves of affection that were strengthened over the year he knew him. The fact he so easily let him into his home was only making all these feeling stronger for him because kindness was another quality that Enjolras appreciated.

And yet, something in him started ringing that warning signal in his head, as Enjolras contemplated all of this. The fear that if he confessed all of this now, Grantaire would push him away. Just now, he got his friendship, was it wise to push for more so soon?

He looked at his tired face in the mirror and tried to smooth his wild hair into something resembling normalcy. He hadn't had much luck with it. 

When he slid back on the bed with Grantaire, he was waiting for him with a paused youtube video he was watching, looking at him expectantly.

"Are you staying the night?" He asked.

Enjolras didn't know how to ask for what he really wanted and was so grateful for Grantaire somehow sensing his want.

"Can I? I mean, if I'm in a way, I can go-"

"No, you are perfectly where you are supposed to be."

Enjolras blushed then: "Thanks, Ferre is currently occupying my bed and I don't think I can sleep on that couch for a moment longer."

Grantaire looked at him like he was assessing all the points where his spine might have been broken from the offensive sofa their apartment possessed: "You can stay as long as you want."

Enjolras only smiled at him, as they both headed to change.

It should have been awkward, to return to bed half-naked and lie next to Grantaire after the realisations he just had. It wasn’t, it was one of the nicest and most normal things he did all week. He lied down with his head turned towards Grantaire and his hands under his pillow. Grantaire turned to him as well and they exchanged a smile before closing their eyes. Enjolras slipped to sleep easily, but not before he consciously reached one of his hands and slipped it underneath Grantaire’s pillow. Like he didn’t want him to drift too far in their sleep.

“You are like an otter,” Grantaire mumbled sleepily and Enjolras made a mental note to ask about it in the morning. He wouldn’t remember that later.

  
To say that Enjolras had the best sleep that week might be a little too presuming, but he felt great after he woke up, despite the bed being now deserted and his bed-mate missing. He found himself migrated almost entirely on Grantaire's side, which made him a bit embarrassed, as he got up from the bed and headed to the bathroom to change to his clothes and make himself presentable again.

He could smell cooking as he emerged from the room and hear Eponine's laughter from the kitchen. 

20 minutes later, he joined all three of the flat's inhabitants at the table They had to add a fourth chair for him and Eponine dragged in an old, tethered computer chair that had its pleather coming off in chunks.

It was one of the most stress-free mornings Enjolras ever experienced. Nobody even reached for their phone during the meal, nobody was rushing to get out of the door and for the first time in forever, Enjolras didn't start working as soon as he woke up on Sunday morning.

Grantaire and Bossuet argued about art theory, Eponine sometimes chirped in while enjoying her coffee and Enjolras, knowing about butt-nothing about art, in general, sat in content, letting himself be lulled to relative safety with Grantaire's voice.

"So what are your plans for today, Enjolras?" Eponine's voice brought him back to reality.

Enjolras shrugged, the truth was, this was the first weekend in a while that he didn't spend barricaded inside with Combeferre and Courfeyrac going over one cause or the other and discussing statistics and order of importance. He had a few causes that he wanted to get to and he always had his side project, but currently, his heart was not in any of it. Quite honestly, his heart kept confusingly fluttering in his chest at this moment, riddled with anxiety and something else, that he didn't want to name yet.

"No plans, Apollo? Maybe you could join me and Bossuet," Grantaire grinned, some kind of an obvious joke in his voice.

"Sure," Enjolras said, not quite sure what he was agreeing to since he didn't listen to their previous conversation. 

"Okay, you will need a pair of gloves and a wrench," Bossuet said.

"Wait, what-?" Enjolras exclaimed. He was so fucked.

They ended up going to local parks and destroying the anti-homeless spikes and any other hostile architecture elements they could find. At first, Enjolras was a bit shocked they did this in plain daylight, but after Grantaire explained that nobody in Paris cares to be up before noon on Sunday, maybe except for the tourist, he kinda got into it more. 

The neighbourhood where Grantaire rented the apartment had a lot of hostile architecture installed and as Bossuet explained, they also had a homeless problem around.

"We help as we can, but it's mostly not enough. They flock here because there's not that many police officer mingling around these streets. We think local gangs might be paying them to stay off these streets," Bossuet said.

"And it's not only homeless people. These hostile design pieces make the city unsafe or unusable also for disabled people, seniors and kids. It's a bigger problem than just homeless," Grantaire added.

"Yes. Also dealing with Paris' homeless problem by trying to exile these people from public spaces is not a solution. Destroying safer public spaces for them only leads to homeless flocking to unsafe parts of the city and bigger mortality rate," Bossuet continued.

"So we take action. But the anti-homeless pieces are appearing every election year or so," Grantaire explained, his eyes shining.

"Yes and we promptly uninstall them," Bossuet grinned and they high-fived with their gloved hands. Enjolras fully understood Bossuet's motivation, he knew the poor guy lived on a street for a short time when he become off age and had to leave the half-way home he was staying at. But Grantaire was a surprise. A good one at that.

"Didn't know you did things like this during weekends," Enjolras bumped shoulder with him sometime later, when Bossuet was out of earshot trying to pry away a pair of very offensive elbow-rests in the middle of a bench.

"Direct action instead of rally's and words. Isn't that what I always preach you about?" he smiled shyly.

"I guess. It's cooler to see it in action," Enjolras admitted.

"And you haven't seen like half of it, Apollo," Grantaire mumbled.

"I would love to. If you let me, that is," Enjolras said. They exchanged a smile over it when the sound of a police car siren sounded behind them.

"Shit!" Grantaire exclaimed as Enjolras face formed into a pure shock.

"Didn't I say to you two to keep watch?" Bossuet cried out and broke into a run. Enjolras felt like everything around him stopped and he was suddenly trapped in a slow-motion scene. He watched Bossuet jump the fence around the park.

"C' mon," Grantaire took Enjolras's hand, as he was frozen in place and tugged him forward. Enjolras stumbled a bit but followed.

They run through a set of streets and alleyways that Enjolras' didn't know at all and would be completely lost in if Grantaire didn't keep a firm grip on his hand while running forward.

Enjolras was only distantly aware of the loud footsteps of a police officer, that probably chased after them through the streets. After a few smart twists and turns, he probably lost them or gave up, but Grantaire kept running.

They only stopped in a dirty alleyway with sets of recycling containers on both sides and some kind of door that read Staff Only on an old rusty plaque. 

"Gloves down and leave the wrench by the dumpster, we will pick them up later," Grantaire instructed and Enjolras followed his lead. They kicked the tools under a dumpster and Grantaire knocked on the door next to it.

They were greeted by grinning Joly: "Just in time for lunch. Hope you didn't touch anything around those trash cans. Just in case, there's anti-bacterial soap in the kitchen."

"You know anti-bacterial soap is just propaganda and it kills necessary bacteria on your skin and overuse can lead to resistance to antibiotics?" Grantaire grinned in a shit-eating grin as he pulled Enjolras inside.

"You could use a shower in it once in awhile Grantaire, but I'm not going to argue. Musichetta is in the back with Bossuet. He busted his knee, but other than that he is okay. If anything like that happens to my boyfriend one more time, you are banned from taking him out ever again." Joly said in the most intimidating tone he could muster for a 5 foot nothing Asian guy and then turned to Enjolras: "Nice to see you. I will add one more place to our table then."

Enjolras a bit taken back by the situation only now registered, that they entered some kind of an industrial-sized kitchen, probably one that belonged to a restaurant, since there were people in white aprons and with nets on their head busting around it.

"Hi Joly," he had time to say before Joly turned around and surprisingly quickly left them there, especially considering he was helped with his cane, which probably meant his leg was flaring up again with pain.

"Don't mind him, he will get over it in a moment and be his good and jolly self," Grantaire laughed as he headed to the sink and washed his hands with the offensive anti-bacterial soap.

"You know, jokes like that are probably the reason why he is always so on edge," Enjolras said, as he exchanged with Grantaire by the sink.

"He just worries about Bossuet. But then again, who doesn't?" Grantaire dried off his hands and steered through the kitchen to the doors at the opposite said. Enjolras followed, as Grantaire opened the doors and revealed a grand space with several tables and a wooden bar, that could only be categorized as an English pub.

"Welcome to Corinth," Grantaire grinned and dove for a table by the window with two booth-like benches on both sides, that had reservation sign on it.  
The pub seemed alive and full of people even during Sunday lunch, which was a good sign. Not all the tables were full, but there were different groups of tourists and locals mingling around.

"Bossuet works here part-time during nights like a bartender. We used to go here a lot during university and the staff and the owner knows us now, so we made it our weekend home-base. Musichetta helps in the kitchen too sometimes," Grantaire continued.

"How can Bossuet work as a bartender?" Enjolras asked with honest curiosity.

"We keep wondering. They had to buy him a plastic cocktail shaker after a few accidents," Grantaire said and Enjolras laughed. Grantaire didn't, so it probably wasn't meant as a joke.

"How come I never knew Bossuet has a side job and that half of my friends does cool illegal activities during weekends?" Enjolras asked.

"Because you tend to work every minute of every day and if you are not working per sé, you are buried nose deep in some research when we try to take you out. Combeferre and Courfeyrac are a bit better, but they tend to do the same thing. One would think at least Courf would balance you two out."

Enjolras blushed by the very accurate analysis.

"Also, you are a big shot lawyer now, if they caught you, you will probably be fired. So that was stupid dragging you there, and I apologize," Grantaire said with a more serious expression on his face.

"Don't. It was fun and I want to do it again if you have me. If they fire me for this, they are not the company I thought they were," Enjolras said buzzing with excitement.

"What about firing you for having a record?" Grantaire asked.

"Negotiable," Enjolras smiled his most charming smile and Grantaire looked for a moment like he was about to choke on his spit. He cleared his throat and squirmed on his seat, sliding a bit forward, so his knee bumped Enjolras' under the table.

"Anyway, Bahorel should join as well. We never know about Feuilly, because he is currently starting at that third job and who knows when he will be free again," Grantaire quickly straightened himself on his seat, shifting away from Enjolras. A sting of disappointment run through his body at that moment. Enjolras wanted to reach for him and pull him closer, but he hadn't dared to do that.

At that moment, Musichetta, carrying various plates of food and amused Bossuet decided to join them at the table. Bossuet had his knee bandaged and there were splatters of blood on his shoe, but other than that he looked fine.

"You seem like you got out just fine," he commented as he was helping with setting the table

"We managed," Enjolras said and reached for some of the plates Chetta was still balancing on her hands. He didn't want Bossuet to take them and accidentally spill anything.

"Good, for a moment there it looked like you froze, I'm sorry we got you into that kind of situation," Bossuet said sheepishly.

"Are you kidding, when are we going back?!" Enjolras exclaimed excitedly and leaned more to Grantaire in the process, to bump their shoulders. He missed and had to steady himself against his tight instead.

"Calm down, we need to lie down for at least two days, or they will be onto us," Bossuet slid to the booth across from Enjolras.

"You need to lie down until next weekend because you have work and I have shifts too, so I will not be able to patch you up Chetta said pointedly as she seated herself next to him, putting a protective arm around his shoulders.

"I would prefer if you never did that again," Joly commented, as he appeared next to them and seated himself next to Musichetta, pecking her on the lips in the process. He brought three jugs full of some kind of lemonade, that smelled like fruit and fresh herbs.

"Fat chance love," Bossuet grinned and reached around to high-five Grantaire again.

"I would like to join you next weekend, if you do something like this again," Enjolras said nervously, tapping his fingers in a nervous gesture. Then he realised, his hand was still settled against Grantaire's tight. He somehow returned it there by instinct.

"Are you sure? Wouldn't it compromise your- you know, career or something?" Bossuet asked.

"Seriously Enj, it can be quite damaging to your reputation if somebody recognizes you or they catch you," said Joly.

"Fuck my reputation! You sound like my parents," Enjolras said pointedly and moved away from Grantaire in an instinct, like a scolded child.

"Ange-" Grantaire said softly. And there it was again, that word. Somehow the nickname sounded different from Grantaire's lips like it was a different word altogether. He noticed it some time ago, never paying it much attention or having time to overthink it. But now he stared at Grantaire transfixed, as he said it, words stuck in his throat.

When Grantaire said Enj, he said it differently, there were undertones to the word that Enjolras didn't yet understand. He said it like worship.

Yes, Grantaire had a lot of nicknames for him, most were adopted by their friends like Chief or Fearless Leader. He called him Apollo, Achilles and Orestes when he was particularly rowdy or drunk. But he never called him Enjy, always Enj. Except it wasn't Enj how their friends said it. It was something else altogether.

"Ange?" Grantaire repeated after Enjolras went silent for a long time and reached for him, stopping just a moment before grabbing his hands. There it was again, that hesitation, but this time Enjolras noticed.

He took his hands and squeezed. Grantaire smiled.

"Stop patronising me," he said simply.

"I would never," Grantaire chuckled, but clung to his hands like it was a lifeline.

"Who would patronise you, oh Fearless Leader?" sounded across the room and it broke whatever emotion Enjolras could see forming on Grantaire's face. Bahorel arrived, eloping them all in a giant bear hug.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Grantaire calls Enjolras Ange (angel in French) instead of Enj and hopes he will not figure it out.   
Also yes, Enjolras is an activist but since leaving university they mostly rely on writing blogs and organising protests well in the rules of law, so a bit of direct action for him is a nice change. 
> 
> Follow me on [tumblr](https://elizabethisjustakitten.tumblr.com/) if you want to chat more about my headcanons or see [my moodboards](https://elizabethisjustakitten.tumblr.com/tagged/modern-au-amis-moodboards) that I have for each character. 
> 
> Next, they go on an awkward activist date, so stay tuned!


	5. A Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Don’t be such a pussy, R!” Bahorel laughed and elbowed him.   
“I’m not, I’m not going to compromise his career for a-“  
“For what, for a date?” Joly grinned.   
“I bet you 20 he wouldn’t even want to do it,” Musichetta added with a dangerous glint in her eye.   
“He will, I know he will,” Grantaire said and somehow knew it was true.   
“Put your pesos where your mouth is then, vato!” Musichetta slapped 20 euro on the table. Grantaire sighed and texted Enjolras.

Spending the day with Enjolras was the most surreal thing Grantaire ever experienced. Not that waking up next to Enjolras was any different, but having his company in the much later hours of the day somehow seemed much more real and dream-like at the same.

Late-nigh Enjolras knicking on his door in a whirl of anxiety was a thing of necessity. He probably walked the streets and tried their other friends before he parked in Grantaire’s bed, exhausted and sad, in need of physical contact, if their sleeping positions were anything to go by.

On the other hand, morning Enjolras was an ethereal thing of other realms that not belonged to this world. With the shy sunlight in his hair, sleep still in his eyes and tiny yawns that he tried to mask, he looked like an escaped fae from Oberon himself. He was beautiful, all long limbs that were moving less gracefully than normal and pink mark from his hand that he slept on.

Day Enjolras was simply Enjolras. Still beautiful, but more present, more awake and ready to fight, to argue and to make a point.

It didn’t change even during their lunch, as he argued workers rights with Bahorel after he got informed that Feuilly was yet again working extra hours that he didn’t get paid properly: "All I'm saying is, it's blatant exploitation. There are laws and unions for this!"

"That's all good but if you are working three jobs and you get some of your payments under the table, so the employer doesn't have to pay taxes, there's not much you can do!" Argument Bahorel and Enjolras looked furious about that.

But this time he didn’t argue with Grantaire, which was nice. And what was even more surprising, he actually turned to him for a supporting argument.

"Feuilly should stand up for himself and tell the employer to give him a contract. Or if it's a mutually beneficial agreement, then he should learn to say no. He has the upper hand there, reporting the employer or threatening to report him is always an option if he is being difficult. Isn't that right?" He turned to Grantaire with a flourish of rage and that radiance that seeped from him every time he got angry enough to argue like this. Except usually it was aimed at Grantaire.

Grantaire, stunned by the whole situation obliged him and noded, for which Enjolras bestowed him with a dazzling smile in return. It was like being drowned in sunlight. Grantaire was sure he was going blind by the sheer prolonged proximity to the beauty.

"He would be fired!" Bahorel said, going red in the face with furry.

"Please, have you seen Feuilly's CV? He has so many jobs and specializations listed that he could land any position he would want," Enjolras sneered.  
"Yes, but he is too tired to go actively looking for a position. The man is practically ready to faint every time he comes home. Seriously Enjolras, it's more complicated than it looks!"

The argument raged on. Enjolras was live and gesticulating madly around, touching Grantaire fleetingly and sending his heart to a spiral of absolute madness. At one point, he rested a hand on his thigh again and Grantaire almost spit what he was drinking.

It was almost as if Enjolras was warming up to him. Which was more than he could ever ask for.

“I should get home,” Enjolras said after the lunch, checking his phone for the first time since the morning. Grantaire knew that because he always noticed those things. Enjolras obsessively checking his phone was a normal thing, that happened every few minutes. Enjolras relaxed in a conversation, so caught in the moment that he forgotten about his phone for half a day was a rare gem worthy of noticing.

But now, he was frowning on it and Grantaire was sure there were a few texts from Combeferre.

“So soon?” Bahorel asked mockingly, his ego still a bit bruised.

“He hasn’t been touching base with his first commander since last night. I’m sure Combeferre is already looking for him,” Bossuet grinned, now sitting practically on Joly’s lap, to make room for Chetra going in and out, cleaning the table. Grantaire shot him a very nasty warning look. 

“Ferre went out last night? Is that why you are with us today? Not that We don’t appreciate it, but you don’t usually join our Sunday lunch,” Musichetta said surprised, taking the last plates and stacking them dangerously on her outstretched arm. She was frowning a little about the idea of Combeferre going out.

“No, Ferre is home. I wasn’t home,” Enjolras said sheepishly, turning to Grantaire with a small smile tucked at a corner of his lips. And what exactly was that supposed to mean?!

“Which means you should probably get there. Until he calls a national guard to pick you up, or something,” Grantaire laughed nervously, somehow sensing their friends were making this into a bigger thing than it was. He could almost feel the mood in the room change,

“He knows where I am,” Enjolras laughed, still not daring to look at their friends. His eyes were fixed in Grantaire’s chest “But yeah, time to go! How much do I own for lunch?”

The rest laughed wholeheartedly.

“You can tell you never went to these things before, Chief,” said Joly “This one is on me and Chetta. The host is always cooking their own, we don’t always meet here. Next is Grantaire’s turn, I believe.”

“Yup,” Grantaire noded “But I will still need to borrow Corinth’s kitchen. I can’t fit any more people in our flat.”

“You seem to manage it just fine these days!” Exclaimed Bossuet with a glee, pointedly looking between him and Enjolras. Joly promptly elbowed him to his ribs. There were some tumbling noises as Bossuet almost slid down from the chair and hit his hand against the table pretty hard.

“You can cook at ours if you like. The kitchen is big enough and we hosted Amis parties before,” said Enjolras suddenly. Grantaire looked at him with surprise and was pretty sure his mouth opened on itself to a very undignified O shape.

Enjolras smiled at him and winked. Grantaire gaped like a fish on the land.

“Aaaanyway,” Bahorel said, as he shifted on his place, seemingly uncomfortable.

“Yes, I should go!” Enjolras shook his head as if he was just woken up from a dream.

They said their goodbyes then and the minute the doors of Corinth closed behind him, their friends faces turned to Grantaire. For a moment they reminded him those horror movie dolls that suddenly turn their necks full 180 degrees.

“What the fuck, R?!” Muscihetta exclaimed.

“He’s been in his bed again,” Bossuet unhelpfully added. That snitch!

“Seriously man, what is this Enjolras thing about?” Bahorel asked a bit confused and looking even more uncomfortable now.

“It’s nothing!” Grantaire said a bit more loudly than he intended “The poor guy is all over the place, Combeferre is sleeping in his bed because apparently, his bed has too many memories or whatever and Enj has no place to sleep. So he showed up again last night.”

“Uhmm,” Musichetta hummed unconvinced. 

“Couldn’t Enjolras just crash in Combeferre’s bed in return?” Bahorel asked confused, scratching his beard.

Grantaire grunted in frustration and fumbled in his pocket for his phone to distract himself and end the conversation. He had four unread messages. All from Combeferre, asking him when Enjolras is coming back.

“Hey, you should take him with you tomorrow,” Bossuet said suddenly.

“Tomorrow?” Grantaire asked confused while reading the texts.

“You know, for the thing, you are planning? I have plans anyway, so I can’t do your usual lookout. He might enjoy it.”

“He risked enough today,” Grantaire said firmly.

“Don’t be such a pussy, R!” Bahorel laughed and elbowed him.

“I’m not, I’m not going to compromise his career for a-“

“For what, for a date?” Joly grinned.

“I bet you 20 he wouldn’t even want to do it,” Musichetta added with a dangerous glint in her eye.

“He will, I know he will,” Grantaire said and somehow knew it was true.

“Put your pesos where your mouth is then, vato!” Musichetta slapped 20 euro on the table. Grantaire sighed and texted Enjolras.

They met under an alcove not that far from Grantaire's apartment. He's been eyeing the empty brick space for quite some time now and now was the night.

"So where do you want me?" Enjolras asked instead of a greeting and Grantaire almost dropped his backpack.

"Hi to you too," he turned to him, fumbling with a roll of painter's tape.

"Hi," Enjolras said, a grin spreading through his face. It was rare to see Enjolras like this, out of his usual guarded expression. The most emotions that Grantaire's was usually seeing was that small frown he wore while thinking about their recent causes as if he was contemplating the world and coming to a conclusion that there was a lot of work to be done.

Now, he was all smile and some kind of giddy energy that pulsated out of him towards Grantaire, as pure adrenaline shot straight to the veins.

"Can you walk around and look if anybody is around?" Grantaire asked, trying too hard not to leave his work for now and go walk with Enjolras around the street, just look at the stars. He could do that after, pretend that they were just walking to a new location. That would be believable, no?

"Sure," Enjolras said but didn't turn to walk away. He was looking at Grantaire with a curious expression.

"What?" Grantaire asked, his short-nailed fingers yet again slipping on the roll of tape, as he was trying to undo the ending of it.

"I'm just very curious what you are doing," he said, shrugging his shoulders and walking finally away. Grantaire finally managed to get the tape after that.

When Enjolras came back reporting that the street was abandoned, Grantaire already had the stencil on the wall. It was a huge cutout of a homeless man, that might or might not look like Grantaire himself, with a beany and holding an empty sign.

"Oh," Enjolras said, looking at the stencil. Grantaire was just reaching for the dark green spray.

"Oh? What does that mean?" he asked suddenly self-conscious, shaking the can.

"When you said graffiti, I was expecting some kind of slogan, but this is... it looks amazing," Enjolras said.

Grantaire flashed him an amused look and started spraying to distract himself from that dreamy expression Enjolras had when he turned to him. It was an expression he usually didn't get to see, all huge shiny eyes and a soft smile causing his cheeks to show the barely visible dimples. But they were there and Grantaire knew that. He studied that face so many times, drawn that face so many times. But usually, it was drawing frowns and hard features, mouths in passionate speeches.

This was different. This was a private part of Enjolras that was suddenly unravelling to him and Grantaire wanted to get to know that part too. To study it, preferably in his bead, with his fingers tracing every muscle and every change of expression. Or with his lips, kissing those soft smiles just to properly memorise their shape.

He was totally, utterly fucked, he thought as the fumes of the spray enclosed him and made him a bit light-headed.

With the stencils, it was pretty easy to get the outline quickly and he was done in a few minutes. With a flourish, he pulled down the stencil. It looked better than he expected.

"You wanted slogans?" He turned to Enjolras, searching his pockets for the acrylic markers he took with him earlier. He managed to find the red one and handed it to him.

"What do you want me to do?" Enjolras asked with amusement, opening the marker.

"Imagine you are a homeless man on the streets of Paris. What do you want the world to know?" He gestured towards the empty space on the sign. Enjolras practically beamed at him and then wrote in giant bold letters SPARE SOME BASIC HUMAN RIGHTS? on the brick. His handwriting was a little shaky since he wasn't used to scribbling letter's on the wall but it had the desired effect.

"Ready for some more?" Grantaire asked after they were done.

"Lead the way, Pylades," Enjolras said and Grantaire almost reached for him and kissed him right then and there.

"Finally found your love for my classics, Apollo?" he asked instead.

"I must admit, it has some merit to it," Enjolras said with a smirk, handing Grantaire back the red marker.

"Some?" Grantaire lifted his gaze to his face and was greeted with Enjolras looking at him with the biggest shit-eating grin he ever saw on him.

He just shook his head and turned away, because he wasn't ready to deal with whatever was just happening.

They argued classics, Macron, gone through a debate about climate change and the impact of one single individual. Somehow, their arguments didn't grow into a full-on fight. Enjolras seemed more relaxed than ever and when Grantaire argued a ridiculous counterpoint about veganism, he just lifted his eyebrows at him and smiled wildly: "Do you think that or are you just playing Devil's advocate?"

"Latter. It's a good thought exercise," Grantaire said with a chuckle.

Enjolras, instead of getting mad or offended, only laughed.

They managed to get to three more locations that Grantaire had on his list. It was already almost two in the morning before they were done and they were closed to Enjolras' apartment than his own, so Grantaire decided to walk him home.

"You know I had fun tonight," Enjolras said, rubbing his thumb that was now turquoise from the bleeding marker he was using earlier. Grantaire let him write every single slogan.

"You can get it out by nail polish remover," Grantaire said helpfully.

"What?" Enjolras looked at his hand bewildered like he just now noticed the blue stain on it.

"I'm sure Courfeyrac had some in his room," Grantaire continued.

"Oh, sure," Enjolras said with a twinge of melancholy in his voice, dropping his hands to his sides. Or was Grantaire imagining things now?

They walked in silence after that. Grantaire could feel the pull of Enjolras beside him, like he was a magnet, but fought against it with all he had. Whatever this was, it was too fragile to mess up by his vulgar feelings he was nursing for Enjolras.

In the end, they might be friends, after all, he thought

"This is me," Enjolras said absolutely unnecessary when they stopped their walk under his building. Grantaire knew where he lived. He's been inside for a party or just to drop pamphlets or whatever he was creating for them, enough times now.

"Right," he said like an idiot.

"Right," Enjolras smiled softly and as the streetlamp illuminated his features, Grantaire had to force his breathing to even out. He was so beautiful and Grantaire was so, so fucked.

"I guess you have your keys," Grantaire said as a dumbass, not quite understanding why they were still standing there.

"I do," Enjolras said with a smirk and a set of keys jingled on his finger.

"Goodnight then," Grantaire leaned in for a hug. Enjolras moved quickly towards him with intent.

Grantaire wrapped his hands around Enjolras' body, relishing in the contact when he felt it. The brush of Enjolras' mouth against his cheek. He froze on the spot.   
Enjolras extracted himself from his grip almost as fast as he fell towards it. If it was a bit more light on the street, Grantaire would swear he was blushing.  
"Goodnight," he said, his voice a bit strained and quickly turned to open the door.

Grantaire was still standing baffled on the pavement when Enjolras disappeared behind the entrance to his building. He could still feel the gentle brush against his cheeks. It did amazingly weird things with his heart, that was now fluttering in his chest like a bird.

Maybe it was just the typical french thing and Enjolras was finally warming up to him, he thought, trying to rationalize this whole evening in his head. Maybe Enjolras kissed everybody goodbye, just as most of the Amis did, he just didn't notice.

Except he knew he didn't. He never gave away bisous upon greeting, that was one of the things that wasn't absolutely French about Enjolras. Bahorel once joked, that Enjolras should snog somebody already, so he wouldn't be so uptight about kissing cheeks with his friends. Needless to say, Enjolras wasn't amused.   
There were two things Grantaire was sure about at that moment:

First, Enjolras kissed his cheek and fled. If it was by accident or intentional was yet to be determined.

Second, and this realisation came to him only after the cold wind blown past his jacket and chilled his bones; He will have to walk home because not even metro was going his way after midnight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on [tumblr](https://elizabethisjustakitten.tumblr.com/) if you want!
> 
> All kudos and comments are appreciated very much!


End file.
